The last time he had stood in front of this door, it had been as a scared eleven year old crossing into the world of wonder for the first time.  While his Grandmother had been old hat at the Wizarding world, for Kendall Fleetfoot, at that age, and as a halfblood, it had not been easy.

The traces of his Native American heritage had been mostly hidden the last time, but now there was no mistaking the color in his skin, and the length of his hair only accentuated that fact.  It was time for a visit to a Wizard Barber.  Time to get back to the clean short cut he had adopted when he became an administrator years before.

The Cauldron hadn’t changed in the many years it had been since Kendall Fleetfoot was a young boy.  The door was still coated with the grease from hundreds of potion-stained hands crossing the threshold, and it creaked as he pulled it open, the light behind him highlighting the dust motes on the interior of the building.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark interior, he could see a few patrons scattered amongst the smaller tables and the booths on the outer edge of the building. The long central table stood empty with the mismatched stools and chairs all neatly arranged.
There were several open stools at the bar, and he didn’t recognize the person who was tending as their back was turned toward him as they polished glassware and pulled requested beverages for the patrons gathered there.  The Patrons a mismatched bunch of wizards and witches who seemed slightly worse for wear, and yet still happy enough people.

For the first of what would likely be many times, Kendall was frustrated that he really didn’t know what had happened here in London over the past three years while he had been off on an unexpected research mission.

A small three seated round table was empty just off to the right of the bar, and with just a bit of light from one of the highly placed leaded glass windows brightening this location within the building.  Sliding into one of the seats, Kendall placed his satchel which was overflowing with rolls of parchment onto the chair beside him.  He pulled a blue hard covered notebook from an inside pocket of his robe, and a muggle lead pencil with it.  Setting these on the table in front of him, the book open to a marked page where multiple figures and writings were strewn haphazardly across the pages.  He then reached back into his inner pocket for the small black case that rested there.

He opened the case and extracted the pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses that he had been forced to acquire before the trip to India. Aging was not something he wanted to think about, and as a halfblood he wouldn’t have the long life of a pureblood wizard.  The best he could expect was at most one hundred and twenty years, not the more typical one hundred forty some wizards achieved.

With the glasses now in place, Kendall turned his mind to the work at hand while he waited for the server to wander over if they even realized that he had sat down.  The translations he was working on would keep him busy until someone decided to pay him some attention anyway.  He had only bent his head over the book when a shadow crossed the table, blocking the light above him.